Sam & Freddie's Infinite Streamlist
by Xxajanae97xX
Summary: Sam and Freddie, an unusually perfect pair, meet midst the madness in a midnight search for the band of their dreams...but what finds them is something they never saw coming.


**_Sam Puckett: a lonely, yet free spirited music junkie who much to her dismay makes friends with Carly Shay, a perfect beauty who doesn't see what's right in front of her - or what's right on her streamlist. _**

**_That guy is Freddie Benson: tech geek and hopeless romantic who's in love with the girl next door despite the many songs that implore against it. Although the relationship is on a thin thread, he refuses to throw in the towel - much to his friends' dismay as well._**

**_Introducing The Just Desserts: alternative band consisting of Brad on Guitar, Gibby on Drums, and Freddie on all the other miscellaneous sounds via custom mixing board. The night they discover their favorite band My Fellow Americans are playing at a secret location somewhere in Washington, everyone is magically brought together in the city-thus life and love changing events ensue. _**

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><p>Seattle, Washington.<p>

Friday, May 5th, 12:07 pm.

Weather: Partly Cloudy. 22% chance of rain…and major bummage.

Soundtrack to My Life: The Night's Soon Upon Us by My Fellow Americans

Current Emoticon of Choice: =\ (indifference ftw)

It was times like these when Freddie had to ask himself: what was the point of blogs? Here he was destitute in his computer chair typing up ramblings of a creature that tortured his soul and the only thing that he could think about was the 12 view counts he got at the end of all of them—and one of them was always himself so he wondered who the other eyes belonged to that actually read this. Everyone said Streammix was just a music blogging site but if that was true then why have the option of adding text, huh? Clearly he couldn't be the only person in the world who contemplated this. Was the internet just a high-tech ruse of a popularity contest? Because he didn't post a Fred video or a funny cat GIF at the end of all his posts did that make him invisible?

Oh well. He had thoughts and they needed to be released, by god!

After submitting his sixth thought of the day he stared at his homepage. Yep…nothing but blurry words and My Fellow American music. Oh—and the multiple blogs dedicated to his ex. Carly Shay…

The perfect specimen of a female he's ever seen. The one that's getting away… It's been about two days since they last talked. Well…when he did all the talking via cell phone and she just said "k' bye," before leaving him with a dial tone. He didn't want to seem desperate but did the following conversation of:

"Well why not I just break up with you!"

"Wait…do you want to break up with me?"

"I don't know. You're not tired of this?"

"I don't know, are you!"

"I don't know, maybe…Ooh! There's Wendy, gotta go, k' bye!"

…really count as an official break up? Maybe a call would help him clear his head.

"Soo, Carlotta… I mean, Carly. Yeah, I know you hate it when people call you that. Anyways I just wanted to say, hey, you know? And what's up? I hear today's nice…you're probably in school right now, right? I should be but I figured today would be a good…personal day. One mark on my attendance record shouldn't mean much, right? Anyway I just wanted to see how you were. We haven't talked since…_that_ conversation. I don't even have a title for it, I'm just calling it "that." "That-which-shall-not-be-named?" Right? Heheheh….yeah. Nerdy, I know. Soooo anyway, if you wanted to talk, hopefully about some good things…things that don't revolve around us…breaking up…then just hit me up. I'm just an apartment door across from yours! Yeah, I'm—"

_Message has been erased. To record again, please…._

Freddie stared at his thumb which somehow lingered over the end button. How…why…?

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH! DAMN IT ALLL!"

* * *

><p>Sunshine. Joyous rays. <em>How dreadful, the weatherman lied to me<em>. Freddie hauled his trash bag over his shoulder as he ventured outside the building to dump if off. Just as he was about to check his watch the smell of burnt rubber and the sound of a mariachi band car horn blared through his senses.

"Aaaye! Fredaaaay!"

"Sup, dude!"

Screeching through the parking lot came Gibby Gibson in his vintage and environmentally toxic party van. Brad was the first to hop out and offer an apologetic wave.

"I apologize for him."

"Yeah, we all do."

Brad then leaned across the driver's door, tossing his uniform jacket back inside the van. "So, enjoying your _personal day_? The garbage detail kinda shows me that you're not."

"Finally putting your feelings for Little Miss Carlay where they belong? Ya know, in the trash?" Gibby called.

"Cheap shot, Gibby, you know they just broke up less than 48 hours ago."

"We did not break up!" Freddie threw the bag—the bag that did not, in fact, contain his feelings for Carly; let the record show—over the drop chute.

"So what do you call it?"

"Not a break-up. Just a….break-ud…" Yeah, not even Freddie knew what in the world that was supposed to mean.

"_As in_ you are ud-derly ridiculous," Gibby cunningly arranged his insult as he jumped out of the van. "We're sick of the slumppage, man."

"You think I like being in this slumppage? But it's hard, you know? Girls are…hard…"

"Ever think it's just_ your_ girl? Maybe, you know, you need a new one?" Brad hinted through his bangs.

"I don't _need_ a new one, Carly is the new one. She's the only one. She's just "the one." Okay? Single digit. All I need."

Brad and Gibby exchanged glances, Gibby conspicuously making whipping gestures toward Freddie's direction.

"Alright," Brad offered to change the subject, "but you know what you DO need?"

"What?"

Snaking an arm around his friend, he began bouncing on his feet as he pulled out a napkin from his back pocket. "Some of thiiiiiiiiiiiis, the number one holy ailment for all worries."

Freddie inspected the napkin. "Some uh, some ingredients for a chocolate slushy soufflé surprise? How is something like this even conceivable anyways?"

"What? No! Uhh," and he quickly turned the napkin over. "I mean…some MFA."

_Now_ Freddie was getting it. "MFA?"

"Doctor's dosage: one awesome night of alternative spectacularity! Gibby got the deets."

"Word up!" And he accompanied Freddie's other shoulder. "It's been all over the radio this morning that My Fellow Americans were hosting a secret concert somewhere in our Washington backyard. And while buying some new drumsticks I just so happened to overhear the counter dude mention that it was gonna be on 24th. Right here in Seattle, bro!"

Brad couldn't hide his laughter. "Oh come on, don't skip over your shame. Gibby over here did a double back flip onto the checkout counter when he heard mention of MFA from the cashier, roundhouse kicked the manager in the tenders and stole dude's phone to read the text about the info."

"Apparently he interns for KISW and got some legit intel. I'm never allowed back in the store for the rest of my life—"

"He was issued a restraining order."

"BUT all was worth it. Cuz after _Just Desserts_ performs tonight at the Groovie Smoothie it is a full out patriotic party with My Fellow Americans!"

"YEAHHH!"

"GIBBY SAYS WHAAAAAAAAT!"

"AWESOME, RIGHT!"

"Wait guys."

Freddie couldn't help but to brush off his friends' excitement. "We have a gig _tonight_? I don't know… I'm not really emotionally capable to go out in public tonight."

Gibby began falling at the knees. "Oh come on! You gotta come toniiight!"

"Yeah. You and your mix board are like 95% of our band."

Gibby shot a sour glare. "Hey!"

But Brad gave him that all knowing look.

"Yeah…you're right. Say like 75 though, it's less embarrassing."

Brad ignored him and pulled his focus back to the distressed one. "Come on, Freddie. We all know that Carly doesn't like the majority of our music anyway. I highly, _highly_ doubt that she'll show up tonight. And…well do I even have to say it?"

Silence ensued before Brad gestured toward their chubby friend.

"**M. F. A.**" Gibby affirmed.

Freddie rubbed the back of his neck, partly ashamed that he had to think about this. "MFA…?"

"MFA."

It was only a hint of a moment before that all knowing presence settled in between the three. The sensation that made their skin tingle, the air oh so sweeter, and the sky bleed a purple haze that enveloped them like Snuggie. It was the power of patriotism. It was My Fellow Americans.

"MFA…!" They slowly began to chant, the power of music coursing through their veins. "MFA! MFA! MFA! MFA! MFA! MFA! _**EEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMM! EFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYEEEE!**_"

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><p>"MFA, what is that? Like a cult or something?"<p>

Sam Puckett was trapped, trapped in a room full of the blind and the stupid. While finishing her Computer Apps assignment she had no choice but to overhear on the group of effeminate daffodils talk about their lack of knowledge in good music. She could almost see their dimwitted expressions through her computer monitor.

"Maybe it is, I mean, I see all their fans wearing those same dingy t-shirts."

"I know, gross right?"

The leader of the flock, the beautiful semi-normal yet subtly dangerous Carly Shay, laughed while she started to correct all that was wrong.

"Guys, it's not a cult," she smiled while tucking a strand of brunette locks behind her ear, "it's a band. They do like, Alternative Rock. Freddie's obsessed with them."

"Freddie, the one at Seattle Prep," the evil on the right with a mid-length auburn mane snorted, "isn't _he_ the one obsessed with _you_?"

"I know, you two broke up like two days ago or something and he's still spamming your voicemail."

"Not totally spamming, Wendy. And Missy you always say that but he's not obsessed, he's just…"

A pause. A pause that lasted a little too long for Sam's liking.

"Sort of clingy…a lot," she concluded.

"Carly you're way too nice," Missy sighed while checking her skin for any blemishes. She should be careful, Sam thought. With the heat coming from the fluorescents her skin could melt and expose the metallic soulless creature underneath.

"She's our_ angel_," Wendy teased.

"Not even," Carly smiled. "I know I should say something to him but it's awkward, ya know? But guess who asked me out tonight!"

The pawns smiled devilishly. "Does it start with a _ssssss_?"

"Ends with an _exxxxyyyyyy_?"

"Well that is the alternate way to spell Lyndon Carrey!"

"AAHHHHHHHHH!"

Alright. That was enough. No way could Sam stomach being fed this bull. She put on her headphones and drowned out the world—and her computer assignment—by switching windows and logging onto her Streammix account,_ The Night's Soon Upon Us_ by MFA currently feeding her brain. She couldn't lie. She didn't even know about the website until she overheard Carly talking about her ex—rather her helpless victim—and his countless blogs. Bruindude92 aka poor heartbroken bastard… The ratio of infinite Carly ramblings to actual things of interest was 90:1. It was such a shame that My Fellow Americans, THE greatest band since the creation of earth and the reason audio therapy exists, was in that 1. Dude had some unbelievably amazing music tastes. Everything was absolutely blog worthy: Blackmarket, Band of Skulls, Black Keys, Bruce Springsteen…and those were only on the B filter. And his layout was pretty impressive too. It was apparent on site that he dipped his hands in HTML and CSS scripts. She so wanted to go, _"Carly dated a nerd! HAAHHAHHAAA OHHH THAT'S RICH!" _just for the sheer hilarity of it. I mean, she was smart but never would a guy like Bruindude92 have the artillery to entertain a girl like her. A…likeable girly girl.

Everything Sam's not.

But enough of that. It was scrolling time. Every Friday Bruindude uploaded a random rock mix that Sam just had to download and add to her collection. He even made video mixes for his favorite songs. Seriously, who does that? Only those born with the awesome gene, that's who. Right as she was about to scurry on down to the download button her eyes locked onto a recent post. Tagged were the words My. Fellow. Americans.

Instant clicking ensued.

Sam's eyes lighted gold deeper than her curly locks and she jumped out of her lab chair, shocking a room filled of now curious faces.

Right on her screen laid the stupendous news: "secret My Fellow Americans concert. Seattle. Tonight. Rocking it."

"HOLY FREAKING MOTHER OF HAM! ARE YOU SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!"

…

First thing she heard out of the awkward silence were Wendy's laughs and Missy's "omg seriously?" Carly caught her stare with a raised brow right as the bell rang.

"Ha…my bad, children," Sam brushed off, "please ignore my public service announcement and enjoy your day."

And with that Sam logged off, hauled her backpack over her shoulder and danced with the tunes of MFA powering her Converses. Past her locker and through the halls to freedom and absolute elation she went.

"Shhhh!"

"Oh come on, Carly, no!"

"Shut up or she'll hear you!"

"It's gonna be fun, I promise."

What was that…? Was that the sound of evils she heard? The record in her head scratched to a stop and so did her feet. Turning around she saw her three…friends…? Enemies…? What are they to her, anyway? Well, she saw her three _whatevers_ approaching her. Carly—of course—was the first to speak.

"Hey Sam!"

"Suup…" she awkwardly spat.

"So we couldn't help but overhear…"

"_Really_ couldn't help."

And then Wendy, of course, laughs. It's just your routine of cliché adlibs from two cronies. Sam didn't care to pay attention.

"Anyway," Carly started again, "overhear that My Americans are playing somewhere tonight."

Sam wrinkled her nose, trying reaaaaally hard not to insult her. Well, it's not like she totally deserved it. Carly was the nice one out of the three. "Uh, no but My _Fellow_ Americans are. It's a secret show thing they always do."

"Right, totally…anyway, we're all doing a triple double tonight and thought you'd like to come. We could see My _Fellow_ Americans all together."

"Uh…triple double…?"

"A triple double date. You know, us and our dates and you and…"

"Here we go, this'll be fun." Missy blurted out. Sam knew they were just waiting for her to say "Well I don't have a date," just to lead them in for the insults, but she in turn could just reply by saying, _"what the hell? Triple Double? That doesn't even make sense. Why not just say a triple date? OR better yet, a GROUP date. What-am I like, not up to date on what the cool kids are butchering nowadays? You already emitted the one part out of MFA that made them lovably ironic, what's next? The Who has been warped into The What? Followed by a cheesy montage of "what? Wait what? The What? I don't get it."_ _Go burn and die, barbies!_"

But of course, that would be rude.

Sam just bit her tongue—pretty hard, at that—and turned back to Carly. "Sooo, you're asking me to what, carpool?"

"No, just ride with us and hang out and stuff."

"Eh. I kinda like carpool better but whatever tickles your peach."

"Riiight…so would you—"

"Oh COME ON, Carly," Missy "The Misdemeanor" Idiot just had to interrupt again, "why even ask? I'm sure her rich mommy can fly her in to meet FMA or whatever whenever she wants. She'll just spoil our fun."

Rich…Sam scoffed. Just rich… If she had a dime for every time she got her mother thrown back at her face for humiliation…

…Nah, she wasn't even going to finish that.

Instead she turned to Missy. "WELL, rich mommy is busy tonight SO I'll take you up on that." Enjoying the moment to further make the two uncomfortable, she rushed over to Wendy and Missy and wrapped her arms around them in a devilishly amicable hug. "We can do each other's nails and put on each other's makeup and just talk boys all night it'll be so freaking fun! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEE!"

The two exchanged grimaces and shrugged away from Sam. Mission: accomplished. Carly smirked. She couldn't lie, she was amused.

"So, is that a yes?" she confirmed.

"Yup, guess so," Sam shrugged and clasped her headphones to her ears while walking away. But on the inside she was screaming. What _the hell_ did she just do?

Was MFA really worth a night of pain and the absolute dreadfulness of being dragged down by the musical stylings of Loveable Carly Shay and her two horrible backup singers?

But was only a hint of a moment before that all knowing presence settled inside Sam. The sensation that made her skin tingle, the air oh so sweeter, and the sky bleed a purple haze that enveloped her like Snuggie. It was the power of patriotism. It was My Fellow Americans.

"MFA…!" She slowly began to chant, the power of music coursing through her veins. "MFA! MFA! MFA! MFA! MFA! MFA! _**EEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMM! EFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! AAAAYYYYEEEEEEEE!**_"

_And this, ladies and gentleman, is Sam & Freddie's Infinite Streamlist. Enjoy._

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><p><strong>AN: I think some will enjoy the direction I take with Carly. No, I'm not a Carly hater so I don't intend on making her a complete bitch like Tris. I have carefully planned this story so that I know how it ends and the updates are steady. My goal is to have all of my current stories finished before the August premier of iLost My Mind. Anyways, tell me what you think and I hope you enjoy!**

**AND - I'll be working on a playlist on my profile page of songs soundtracking this story. Some will help me with the titles, but all I recommend. **


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